


Grief Counselling

by inamamagic



Category: Jane the Virgin, Mediator Series - Meg Cabot
Genre: F/F, Ghost Michael, Post Chapter Fifty-Four, Post time leap, Pre-Season 4 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamamagic/pseuds/inamamagic
Summary: Petra never asked to be a mediator. Especially not to help Jane get over Michael's death. It's bad enough that Jane is... well... Jane, and tough enough to get along with at the best of times. And during the worst of times, well, perhaps it's best not to talk about that. But what's really frustrating for Petra is that her growing feelings for Jane won't go away. Not at all.And she has a sneaking suspicion that Michael not only knows, but is also very amused.(I went on a bit of a Meg Cabot binge and got inspired. For those unfamiliar with it, the mediator premise is based on Meg Cabot's 'Mediator' series about a girl who can see ghosts and has to help them move on)(NOTE: I started writing this just around the time the time-skip happened, SO THIS IS NOT CANON COMPLIANT POST TIME SKIP JUST SAYING. IF YOU'VE WATCHED THE FINALE OF SEASON 4 YOU'LL KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT LOL)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basis of this story comes from Meg Cabot's Mediator series, but if you know nothing about it, it's totally fine. The premise of that series is essentially - a girl can see ghosts and it's her responsibility to help them tie up the loose ends tethering them to earth so they can move on. Sometimes it gets messy. That's about the gist of it.

It’s not like Petra ever asked to be a mediator anyway. She hadn’t even believed in them the first time she’d heard about them, way back before she’d moved to the States. And she’d believed in a lot of stuff back then.

It was somewhere just before Milos that she’d encountered another one, someone who’d actually explained that all those strange people that kept bothering her weren’t actually people. 

But ghosts? Really? 

Luckily, the other mediator she’d met (a tough old lady that Magda had hated) had been quite nice about all of it. She’d told Petra that under no circumstances was she to engage in a spirit she could not help. And since Petra was in her teens and barely able to help her own self, this meant she didn’t have to do anything for any old ghost.

After Miami most of that changed. Petra grew up. Started seeing a few people other than Milos. Made some money of her own. Finally stopped being so scared all the time. So when ghosts came to bug her about stuff, she could actually do something for a change. 

A surprising number of them seemed to be related to the Marbella staff. It was hard in the beginning, trying to help them when most of the staff were scared witless of her. What was even more difficult was trying to keep things that way once all the mediating had been done. Because when you’re kind to people, they stop being scared of you. And they start doing things like smiling. And checking in on you. And making you a special kind of dipping sauce when you order room service. 

The last one wasn’t so bad. Petra had even given the chef in question a bonus. And the food just got better.

She wonders if any of that will change once Rafael goes to jail. Chances are they won’t. The staff do like and respect her on her own merit, and they rarely interact with Rafael anyway. He always has a million and one things to do. Sometimes it feels like she’s the only one really running this place.

Petra feels a sick swooping in her stomach as she realises that, when Rafael does eventually go, she really will be the only one running the place. Add that to Anna and Elsa (Petra is still certain they hate her, even though everyone keeps saying they’re babies and no one will know the difference) and she really doesn’t know what she’s going to do.

Sighing, Petra opens the door to her office and yelps at the sight of Michael Cordero inside.

“How did you get in here?” she snaps. “Who let you in?”

For good measure, she checks back at the desk to see if her assistant is still seated there. She’s not.

“Great,” scoffs Petra. “But you could’ve knocked you know.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. Then he looks at her, and around the office, and then at himself. Then he closes his eyes, brow furrowed, and opens it again.

“Well?” asks Petra. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Michael frowns. Then he looks around again.

“Why I’m here?” he says slowly. “I…”

Petra’s gut clenches. She slams the door shut behind her and locks it. 

“Michael,” she asks him. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was doing my LSAT,” he says. “I – I was – I finished it. And then…”

His voice trails off again. Petra’s hands go cold.

She opens her purse and grabs her phone, scrolling to find Jane when a small voice in her head whispers _wait_. 

Petra puts her phone back in her purse.

“Well, Michael,” she says, trying to sound as professional as possible, even though her hands are shaking slightly. “You might have to wait a while.”

“A while?” asks Michael. “What do you mean?”

Petra walks to her chair and sits down, placing her purse on her lap and taking her phone out. The news is bound to come to her soon. She gives it about four hours. Or five. Give or take. 

“Have a seat,” she says, gesturing at the chair in front of her desk, “and let me explain.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Three years later_

Mediating is not easy by anybody’s standards, but mediating between Jane and Michael? Almost impossible.

Firstly, Jane had absolutely refused to believe Petra about Michael. Deep down inside, Petra didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have believed it either. After apologizing copiously and finally managing to convince her that it was not a cruel joke, Petra had refrained from bringing up the subject ever again.

Secondly, Michael just wouldn’t _leave_. Even three years later, when Jane was clearly totally fine (alright perhaps not _totally_. But still). 

“Why’re you still here?” Petra had kept asking him. Every time she'd asked, he’d shrug.

“I dunno,” he’d say. “Isn’t that up to you to figure out?”

But for the most part, it’s alright. Michael had kept her company whilst Rafael was in jail and she was alone with the twins at night. And now, he’s just a comforting presence. Makes her feel less lonely. 

She won’t admit it to anyone, but she’ll miss him when she leaves.

“So what do you guys have planned for this week?” he asks. They’re in her office, or rather, Petra is in her office, trying to do her work. Michael is just crashing. 

“I told you, she comes to the Marbella, the kids go with Raf. We have lunch in my suite and talk. That’s it.”

For some reason, Michael had never once materialised during Petra and Jane’s weekly lunch sessions. Petra had always wondered if he’d wanted to give them privacy, but it didn’t make a lot of sense. He’s usually around Jane for most of the day (as far as Petra is aware anyway), and so it’s always been a mystery as to why he was never around then.

But she’d never asked, and he’d never told. 

“But you always do lunch,” he says. “Can’t you guys try something cool for a change? Like going outside?”

“I told you,” says Petra through gritted teeth (because really, this has been going on for three years now), “Jane doesn’t want people to know. And neither do I.”

“Nah,” says Michael, plopping himself down onto the chair in front of her desk. “You always say that. You’re always say you don’t want to spend time with her, and what a pain in the ass she is, and -” He puts on a high-pitched voice. “She’s always so high and mighty and she thinks she knows everything -”

“Excuse me,” says Petra, indignant. “I do not sound like that.”

“Yes you do,” says Michael with a grin. “But you can’t tell me that you don’t like spending time with her. Because you never look as content as you do after your Sunday lunches.” He points a finger at Petra. “Now see, if I was alive, I’d tell everyone to schedule meetings right after your Sunday lunches. You’re so completely agreeable, you’ll do anything.”

“If you were alive, Jane and I wouldn’t have Sunday lunches,” Petra reminds him. 

“Ah well,” says Michael, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. 

It had taken a while for Michael to grow used to his death. The first year was the worst. He’d be so upset that he’d routinely blow the power from Petra’s office. Maintenance had even suggested moving to the opposite end of the building because four blow-outs in three weeks was just too much. 

He always seemed more mellow these days. Petra supposed that had a lot to do with time, but also the fact that Jane seemed to be getting her life back together again. 

“You know what you should do?” says Michael. “You should have a cooking day. Cook with her. Just to switch it up.”

Petra raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” she says. “No pun intended.”

“Intended or not that’s a good one,” says Michael, grinning again. “We’ll make a comedian out of you yet.”

God, he can be so _cheerful_ sometimes. No wonder Jane had liked him. Sometimes, Petra wants to kick him out of the window. Not that that’ll do anything. 

“But seriously,” says Michael. “I just think you guys would actually be decent friends if you worked through the whole pride thing you guys have.”

“What pride thing?”

“That thing where you refuse to admit that you could be wrong about each other. That the other one isn’t as bad as you’re making them out to be.” Michael crosses his arms. “I never thought I’d say that when I was alive, but then again, I didn’t know you when I was alive.”

And now you know me all too well, thinks Petra, but doesn’t voice the thought. 

“ – but I really do think you guys would make a really good pair of friends -”

Petra’s phone rings and she dives to get it. She answers it without even looking at the screen.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Petra.”

Petra’s heart skips a beat at the sound of Jane’s voice. There’s just something about it that’s so... warm, and comforting, and sweet, and just -

“Something came up,” says Jane. “I have to cancel on Sunday.”

“Oh that’s fine,” says Petra. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Just wanted to let you know,” says Jane.

“Alright,” says Petra. “Well. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jane hangs up, and Petra’s left staring at the phone in her hand. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, and an inexplicable sense of sadness begins to creep up her throat. 

“Who was that?” asks Michael.

“Huh? Oh, no, just Jane. She can’t make it on Sunday.”

Michael is quiet for a moment. Petra doesn’t say anything. She opens her email and scrolls through it, trying to find something to distract herself. Something, anything at all…

“You’re sad.”

“I am not sad,” scoffs Petra. “I am working.”

To her relief, Michael doesn’t respond. It takes a few minutes for Petra to realise that he has dematerialised. She sighs.

The worst part of it all is that Jane hadn’t even sounded too sad about it. 

Clearly, Petra is the only one that even cares about Sunday lunch at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Two whole weeks pass before Petra and Jane can have Sunday lunch again. By this time, Petra has sworn to close herself off to Jane completely. No. They are not friends. They’re merely carrying on a tradition that was initially meant to help them get through their own periods of grief, right after Michael died and Rafael was in jail, and it was in no way meant to foster a friendship of any kind, and she should probably really talk to Jane about calling the whole thing off because –

There is a knock on the door of her suite and Petra almost leaps off the chair to open it. Jane smiles at her, and she feels her heart skip a beat.

_She is not your friend. She is just – just the mother of your children’s half-brother. That’s all. THAT’S ALL!_

“I am so sorry for cancelling twice in a row…”

An apology! She does care!

“– I promise, I do have a good reason.” Jane sets her handbag down on an end table and turns to face Petra, with a smile so dazzling that it almost knocks her out.

_That haircut really suits her. She should’ve cut it ages ago. Her eyes are so pretty. Her cheeks are so pink today, it’s adorable._

“– published.”

Petra blinks. Jane is smiling expectantly at her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My book. The book I wrote. I told you about it, remember? I just got a call from someone who wants to publish it.”

Petra can’t stop a large grin from growing on her own face.

“Wow, publishing it? That’s really wonderful, Jane. I’m very happy for you.”

“I know!” Jane squeals, and before Petra knows what’s going on, she’s hugging her.

Jane smells like flowers. She always has. Sometimes she smells like detergent. On occasion, milk, but that’s rare. It’s always flowers. And since the hug is unexpected, Petra is completely unprepared.

Whatever she’s been stressed out about goes flying right out the window.

Jane pulls away and looks at Petra. “So, I was thinking, maybe we could change things up a little bit today, just to celebrate? Have lunch somewhere else? My treat.”

“Oh no, I should be treating you,” says Petra. “You’re the one who’s getting published.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’d really love to treat you.”

“No, I insist,” says Petra. “Let me just get my purse.”

“No, _I_ insist,” says Jane.

“Jane,” says Petra.

“Petra,” says Jane.

“We could stand here arguing about this all day,” says Petra. “Come on Jane. Let me treat you this week. You can do it next week.”

“Fine,” says Jane with a shrug. “But you have to promise to let me do it.”

“Alright,” says Petra with a smile, heading towards her room to pick up her purse and handbag.

 “You didn’t say you promised!” 

“I promise!”

And so they go out.

It does feel slightly strange to have lunch with Jane in a place that’s not her suite. It almost feels slightly wrong. They did keep quite rigidly to their rules after all. Petra keeps glancing around, wondering if any one she knows is nearby. She is certain they won’t bump into Rafael, but there are countless other people who have always thought that Jane and Petra hate each other. Those people are going to think some interesting things.

They don’t bump into anyone, and soon enough, they’re settled at a restaurant just a few blocks away from the Marbella, having lunch and making small talk for once, instead of discussing their problems.

 “So how are Anna and Elsa?” asks Jane.

“Oh, they’re doing wonderfully,” says Petra. “Their martial arts instructor just told us that he might consider moving them up a class. They pick things up so fast.”

“Oh, that’s really great,” says Jane, though Petra wonders if she is imagining the slight strain in her voice.

“And how is Mateo?” asks Petra. “Rafael told me that he needs an aide.”

“He did what now?” asks Jane.

“Oh no, that’s alright!” says Petra quickly. Mateo has always been a touchy subject for Jane, and they rarely discuss him these days. Petra isn’t too surprised. For someone who manages to do everything right, Mateo just doesn’t seem to fit with Jane’s programme.

Still, he is just a child. But Petra sometimes can’t help but feel (guiltily) good about the fact that her children are better behaved than Jane’s. 

But still. The guilt. It’s there. And it’s there now, and it’s stopping her from eating her chicken salad because Jane is looking so irritated.

“Yeah, but I’m sure it’s nothing he won’t grow out of,” says Jane. “He’ll be fine.”

“It’s completely fine to need a little extra help,” says Petra. “These people are professionals. They’re trained to spot things that parents can’t.”

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with my son?” demands Jane. “Are you saying I don’t know how to raise him right?” 

“No! Not at all! I just – Jane, I just mean that sometimes, even the best of us need a little help sometimes.”

“You don’t,” says Jane, giving her an accusatory glance. Petra winces.

“I had the nannies, remember? I still do.”

“That’s different,” says Jane. Petra can’t argue with that.

“Look, I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she says. “Rafael didn’t mean to tell me, it just came up in conversation. He didn’t say anything else about it, I promise.”

“Oh, I bet he didn’t _mean to_ ,” grumbles Jane. Both of them resume eating quietly. 

“Um, so, what’ll you do now, with your book?” asks Petra, poking around at her salad. “What do you have to do?”

“Well,” says Jane, chewing slowly. “I’ll just be working with the editor now. They’ll give me suggestions and I’ll do some rewrites, and then it’s off to marketing.” 

“Sounds quite straightforward,” says Petra. “Oh hey, if you ever do a book launch, you can definitely have it at the Marbella.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need your help,” says Jane coolly. Petra blinks, and even Jane seems to realise what she’s said. 

“I didn’t mean –”

“That’s alright,” says Petra. “I just thought it would be nice to host you. I won’t offer my opinion again." 

“No, Petra…” 

“No, it’s alright,” says Petra, standing up. The last of the salad feels like paper in her mouth. She rummages in her purse and finds some cash and places it on the table. “Keep the change. Or tip the waiter. I don’t care.”

“Petra, wait –”

The mature thing for Petra to do would have been to wait and sit through lunch, but she’s just tired of Jane at the moment, and wants to be alone.

Unfortunately, Michael is waiting for her in her suite when she returns.

“So?” he asks. “How did it go?”

“Terribly,” says Petra, walking into her room and slamming the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The annoying thing about ghosts is that walls and doors don’t keep them out, and Michael had been surprisingly slow to catch onto this. He’d walked in on Petra showering more times than either one of them could count.

But he has since learned that accidental movements can lead to unintended consequences. Even so, it doesn’t stop him from sticking his head through the door after she’s slammed it in his face. 

Except Petra’s sure this one’s (slightly) on purpose.

“It can’t have been that bad.”

Petra shoots him a glare.

“Can you at least give me five minutes to calm down?”

“Five. Got it.” He withdraws his head, and Petra takes her heel off and hurls it towards the door with a yell of frustration. Still feeling furious, she takes her other heel off and throws it too.

At least her feet can have a rest now.

Petra begins to pace back and forth, hoping that walking with calm her down. Without the girls to distract her, there’s no way she can stop thinking about the disaster that was lunch. Work is bound to stress her out even more, so going down to her office is out of the question.

Jane – _Jane_! Jane!

 _URGH!_  

Jane has always been quick to judge, and it's never bothered Petra before. It’s just how Jane was, like how Petra was blonde, and how Mateo was a little on the hyperactive side. And it wasn’t like they were friends anyway, so Petra never had to deal with it. 

But it’s not like they’re friends now either, and Petra cannot understand just why this bothers her so much. 

She walks up to the window and puts her hand on the glass. It’s warm, too warm to rest her face on. She opens the window just a crack, and a slight breeze comes in. A few hundred feet away, the ocean glimmers in the sunlight. Petra can see a few beachgoers tanning on towels, and she spots the treasure hunt crew running around. A small smile grows on her face. Knowing that the Marbella rebranding is really helping with the guest numbers is satisfying. For once, she can take credit for something big _and_ successful.

 _Take that, Chuck Chesser_.

Petra stares at the waves for a while, just breathing deeply every now and again, and before she knows it, she’s calmed down. The breeze blowing on her face helps.

The treasure hunt crew have all gathered together now. Petra wonders what they’re about to dig up.

Michael knocks on the door. “Uh, can I come in now?”

Petra rolls her eyes.

“If I can hear you this well, it means part of your body is already inside the room.” 

“Fair point,” says Michael, walking into the room and pausing halfway.

"Um... what happened to your shoes?"

"I threw them," says Petra. "Because I was angry."

To his credit, Michael does not respond to this. It's one of the things Petra likes about him. Even though he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, he does stay quiet when he needs to.

He walks up to her and stares out of the window.

“Man. I’ll never get tired of this view.” 

“Me neither,” says Petra. “It helps… with everything…"

 “Wanna talk about it?” he asks.

Petra takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds, counting backwards from three in her head before exhaling.

“I – I suppose I did overstep,” she says. “All I said was that the Marbella would be proud to host her with her book when she launches it.”

Michael’s whole face lights up.

“She’s getting published?” he says, his smile so wide it covers the entire lower half of his face.

“That is definitely not the focus of this conversation,” mutters Petra. “But yes, she’s getting published.” 

“Oh my god!” laughs Michael. “This is great! This is so great. This is amazing! Yes!”

“Well I’m glad you’re happy at any rate,” says Petra, her lips twitching despite herself.

“Of course I’m happy!” says Michael throwing his hands up. “Do you know how long she took to write that book?”

“You know she’s publishing the new one right?”

Michael frowns. “There’s a new book?”

Petra raises an eyebrow. “I thought you’d know. You’re the one that sits with her every night.”

“Yeah,” says Michael with a shrug. “But I don’t actually read what she’s writing.”

“You haven’t even overheard any conversations?” 

“Nope,” says Michael. Petra rolls her eyes. 

“Great. With Jane, you have boundaries. With me, you don’t even use a door.”

“Hey, that’s different,” says Michael. “She can’t see me.” 

“Which is exactly why you _should_ use a door around me!” exclaims Petra. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” says Michael. “But this is still so great. Wow. _Wow_. She’s finally getting published. _Wow_!”

“Yes, it is very wow indeed,” says Petra, smiling slightly. She wonders if there’s something about death that makes ghosts unable to move on from anything they had in life. She’s met ghosts who’ve been in love with their spouses for decades after they’d died. Michael doesn’t seem to have moved on from Jane one bit. If anything, he just seems to love her more by the day.

She wonders if she’ll be just as stuck if she dies. God forbid it happens. The idea is terrifying.

“You guys should celebrate!” says Michael. “You should throw her a party!”

“Considering how things went when I offered to host her book launch, I doubt she’d take very well to the idea,” says Petra, pursing her lips. She feels a prickle of anger resurface as she thinks about it again. Gripping the window sill, she takes a deep breath and focuses on the ocean once again. The treasure hunt crew are still gathered around the same spot. Petra assumes they’re digging something up.

“I don’t understand why she’s so _hostile_ ,” she says. “I was just trying to be nice.” 

“Maybe she doesn’t trust you,” Michael says. 

“Why don’t you just stab me? It’ll hurt less,” mutters Petra.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Michael’s smile fades.

“Jane doesn’t hate you,” he says. “She just…” He pauses and frowns, as though trying to think of the right way to phrase whatever it is he is about to say. “You know how she is. She’s got a strong personality.”

“Oh you don’t say?” says Petra, turning to look at him. “Oh please, do tell me more about this strong personality of hers.” Michael grimaces.

“It’s not like that,” he starts. “What I mean is -”

But Petra never does learn what Michael means, because the rest of his sentence is drowned by a scream from the beach. Both of them jump and turn back to the window. The treasure hunt leader appears to be trying to usher the children away from something, but from this far away, neither one of them can see what it is.

Underneath all her panic, Petra feels a spasm of terror. If anything affects the Marbella’s rebranding…

“You’d better check that out,” says Michael.

“Yeah,” says Petra, running out of the room.

"Your shoes!" calls Michael. Petra swears and turns back to run and get them. She _would_ get some flats, but they make her feel short. And when she feels short, she can't intimidate people as well.

When she reaches them, she finds that Michael has set them back upright and next to each other. "Thanks," says Petra, as she shoves her foot into one of the shoes.

"No problem," says Michael. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine," says Petra, hopping on one foot as she pulls at the strap on her other shoe. "If you come with me, I'll talk to you, and that'll be weird. For other people."

" _Other peopl_ _e_ ," grins Michael. "Yes of course."

Petra rolls her eyes but she doesn't say anything. She rushes back out of her bedroom into her suite - 

Only to see Scott Archuletta standing by the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm reposting chapter five, so for those of you who've read it, I apologise! It was an oversight on my part, I posted it before I'd finished it completely, but there isn't much I've added to be honest, just a little bit at the end to round it off better. Again, I'm very sorry)

Petra blinks at the sight of him. She hadn’t heard him come inside, and she wonders how he got inside.

“Scott? Where have you been? People have been looking for you!”

 _For three years_ , she thinks. _Why couldn’t you have stayed gone?_ _What right have you, to show up now like a ghost of Christmas –_

_Oh. Oh no._

Scott glares at her.

“You have no idea how long it’s taken me to get in here,” he snaps. “Three years! Three, _miserable_ years, I’ve been trying to get in here to see you, but _someone_ –”

He glares again at a spot over Petra’s shoulder, and Petra turns to see Michael eyeing Scott with a slight frown.

Petra tries to wrap her head around what is happening.

Scott is dead. He has died – has _been dead_ for three years. Just around as long as Michael has.

So how has Michael stopped him from seeing her? How does that work? Scott could’ve just come in at any time, and it’s more likely that he _would_ have come into the Marbella, given that he practically lived there, but – 

“Petra!” says Michael. “The beach?”

Right. She has real life problems. Real _live_ problems. 

“Oh, oh yes, thank you,” she says. “Scott. Stay put. Michael –” 

“I’ll make sure he stays.” 

Scott begins to protest, but Petra hurries out of her suite. Her cell phone rings just as she reaches the elevator. It’s Krishna. 

“Miss Solano –”

“I’m on my way down, Krishna.” Petra hangs up and presses the _down_ button. While she waits for the lift, she continues to muse about Scott’s strange commentary.

If he really has been dead for three years, then it makes very little sense for him to be unable to come into the Marbella – unless he was able to come in, but just not near _Petra_? Of course he would’ve been told that she was the resident mediator. It’s how all the ghosts find her. It’s always “oh, Hector Gonzalez told me you could help.”

And it’s _always_ Hector Gonzalez too. Why he hasn’t moved on after being stuck here for the past two decades is something neither he nor Petra have figured out.

The elevator dings. Petra steps inside and presses the button to the lobby. She knows she’s going to find all the commotion there.

If Scott and Michael died around the same time, it’s simply strange that Michael would have been powerful enough to keep Scott away, unless he took a chance on Scott’s own disbelief over his death to make sure he stayed away. Petra wouldn’t put it past Michael to be able to keep anyone away from her now though. Three years is quite enough time to become pretty powerful (although she has met ghosts who’ve caused much more damage in less time. Usually the violent deaths.) 

The lift dings again and the doors open. Petra takes a deep breath before stepping outside. Luckily, the staff seems to be doing damage control. Everything seems to be going smoothly; guests are checking in as usual, the lobby music is finally a nice instrumental, instead of that brain-melting children’s pop that played for the first few days, and everyone is – 

“ _AAAAARGH!_ ”

So much for order...

As the guests begin to look around curiously, Petra grits her teeth and hurries towards the source of the scream. The treasure hunt crew is rushing back to the hotel, and one of the children is slightly hysterical.

Alright, perhaps 'slightly' is a little bit of an understatement. The kid’s face is bright red and he will not stop screaming. The sound is like a siren blaring right through Petra’s head, and she winces.

“Miss Solano!” exclaims Todd, the treasure hunt coordinator. “I am so sorry. Turns out the skeleton diversion was a little too realistic.”

_Skeleton diversion?_

Petra is just about to ask about it when Todd gives her a worried glance. Catching on, she nods.

“I’m so sorry the skeleton scared you,” says Petra gently, more to the crying boy than to the rest of the crowd. “I promise, it’s not real. I think our special effects crew went a little overboard with that.”

The child’s sobs quieten a little, but his shoulders are still heaving, and he gasps with every other breath.

“Don’t worry about the skeleton okay?” Petra says, this time looking at the other kids, some of whom look significantly spooked. “It’s not real. We’ll have the special effects crew put on a demonstration tomorrow. They’re really very good. Maybe a little too good.”

She smiles and waves them away. The moment they’re out of sight, she sighs and puts her hand on her face. Now she actually has to hire a special effects team to cover her tracks.

This is not shaping up to be a good day.

“Miss Solano!”

“Ah, Krishna,” says Petra, as her secretary runs towards her looking harried.  

“Miss Solano,” says Krishna. “You must get to the beach now.” 

“Have you told Rafael?” Petra asks. 

“I couldn’t reach him,” says Krishna. “But I’m trying.”

“Keep trying,” says Petra, walking out of the hotel, but the moment she steps on the sand, her heels begin to sink, going deeper the farther she goes. After dragging her feet for a while, she gives up and takes them in her hands. The sand is warm at first, but then grows irritatingly hot as she walks. Petra wipes her brow and fans herself with her free hand. The beach looked so much nicer when she was inside, in the air-conditioning. Even the glimmers on the waves feel like little daggers of light, stabbing her corneas. She squints and shields her eyes.

A group of maintenance men are cordoning off the area where the skeleton has been found. Petra sighs. This is only going to draw _more_ negative attention.

“Hey, Petra, _Petra_!”

Rafael runs to catch up to her. “What’s happening?”

“Where were you?” Petra snaps.

“I was on the beach,” says Rafael, looking and sounding completely perplexed. “Further down from here. I was just making my way back to the Marbella. What’s happening? Krishna’s called me about twelve times.”

“They’ve found a skeleton, apparently,” says Petra. Rafael blinks.

“They’ve found a what now?”

“A skeleton.”

“But,” says Rafael, “ _whose_ skeleton?”

Petra has a hunch. But she doesn’t want to voice her thoughts. Rafael will think she’s lost it. Or that she’s a clairvoyant. Besides, she doesn’t want to be right this time. If she is, it’s just going to make her job so much harder. Rebranding and reopening on her own was stressful enough. She wants a break. 

The maintenance men make way as they approach. “Not a pretty sight,” says one of them.

Petra and Rafael peer into the hole, and both of them have to suppress a gasp. Most of the flesh has withered away, leaving just bones, but there’s one thing still intact, and that’s the Marbella nametag reading Scott Archuletta.

Petra’s stomach sinks. Great. On top of all the damage control she’ll have to do with the press, the fact also remains that, unless they find out how Scott ended up in a pit on the beach, Petra will probably be bothered by his ghost forever.

Rafael puts a hand over his forehead and groans.

“How much will _this_ cost to go away?” he mutters.

“Too much,” says Petra. If it costs her the Marbella, she might as well dig her own grave on the beach and lie in it too.

Both of them stare into the pit for a while. Then Rafael sighs.

“I’ll – I’ll handle the police, okay?” he says. “You just focus on the publicity.”

“Oh, so what, you get the easy job?” scoffs Petra. Rafael grimaces.

“It’s what you’re best at,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll blow over soon. We’ve dealt with worse.” 

Petra thinks about Scott’s ghost in her apartment.

“Yeah,” she says. “Let’s hope.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mishap with the previous chapter. For those of you that haven't seen, I accidentally uploaded it without having finished it properly. I then re-uploaded it (instead of editing it), because I'd made minor tweaks and I didn't want to comb through the chapter looking for them. The only thing that's really changed is the ending, but even that was just basically adding a few more paragraphs to round it off.

It’s Sunday again before Petra even knows it. The ‘special effects skeleton’ ruse didn’t fool nearly as enough people as Petra would’ve liked. In any case, most parents were furious at the ‘severe mental harm’ that the Marbella had put their children through.

Alright, that was only one parent. But even a single parent (or in this case, a pair of them) threatening to sue was bad enough. Petra doesn’t know what’s worse. The possibility that all her hard work rebranding and reopening the Marbella will go down the drain – or having to deal with Chuck Chesser’s smug face telling her that if this wasn’t a _children’s hotel_ , no one would be threatening to sue. 

Chuck Chesser clearly knows nothing about running a hotel.

“Wow, Petra, you’re really taking it out on that napkin.”

Petra turns to Jane, trying to stretch her lips into something resembling a smile, but Jane’s expression makes her think it’s more like a grimace. She looks at her hands. The paper towel has disintegrated into dust. Most of it is on the ground.

“It’s nothing,” she says, dusting her hands. “I’m fine. How’re you?”

She and Jane have had to reschedule their Sunday lunch to Sunday dinner because Rafael hadn’t been available earlier in the day. The both of them had then decided to spend the time with their respective children. Petra had floated the idea of cancelling, but Jane had insisted.

(Petra will not admit it, but this made her very happy.)

“I literally just told you,” says Jane, propping her head on her hand. “I just told you all about my week.” 

“Oh, yes, right. You did.”

Jane looks at Petra, her brown eyes searching her face for some sort of answer.

 “What’s bothering you Petra?”

“Nothing!” says Petra standing up. “More wine?”

“Petra,” sighs Jane, following her to the bar. “The whole point of Sundays is to, you know, talk.”

“About what?” snaps Petra, placing her wine glass on the bar a little harder than she intends to. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jane, all we’ve said for the last three months is, oh how was your day? Fine, how was your day? Fine, how are the kids? Fine, how’s the family? I think we stopped needing this a while ago.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Petra, if this is about last week, I’ve already apologised for it.” 

“I – you think I’m just offended because you didn’t take my offer for the book launch venue? God, Jane, I’m not that shallow.”

“I never said you were!”

“Well then,” shouts Petra. “If you must know, they found Scott’s skeleton on the beach the other day, and now there’s going to be a murder investigation, and there’s a parent threatening to sue, and Chuck Chesser thinks this whole thing is a joke, and we’ve already had about three deaths at the Marbella already, is this place just cursed or something? Why can’t I just catch a break?”

The last sentence comes out so hysterical that her breath catches in her throat. Jane rushes to get her some water.

“Here,” she says in that same gentle voice she used earlier. “Drink this slowly.”

Petra’s palms are sweating. She takes the glass with shaking hands, feeling more and more lightheaded with every sip. Jane rubs her back.

“Come on,” she says. “We’ll go sit down again. You have every right to be stressed out. This must be so hard for you.”

Petra can barely register the words as Jane guides her to the couch, but the small part of her brain that does understand what’s going on feels a little flutter of warmth. When they’d made the Sunday arrangement, they’d initially had an unspoken rule of showing no empathy. It helped them both feel more at ease in terms of telling each other what was going on. The most they would do for each other would be a pat on the shoulder, a hand squeeze, or a (completely silent) hug. The rest of it was merely talking to each other, and listening quietly. 

Of course, that dynamic had changed over time, with both women beginning to express their understanding more as they grew closer and more comfortable with each other. But Petra has never recalled anything like _this_ happening, ever.

She can’t complain though.

She lets Jane help her into her seat and leans back, putting her hand over her head.

“Rafael didn’t mention anything to me,” says Jane. “I had no idea. And at school – you never seemed like anything was wrong.”

Petra chuckles. “If I look like I’m worried in public, then everyone else _should_ be worried.”

She glances up and catches sight of a small smile on Jane’s face. Her heart flutters and she feels lightheaded again, so she closes her eyes. Jane strokes her hand with her thumb.

“So what’s the plan for this?” she asks gently. “Is there going to be an investigation?”

“Yes,” says Petra, her eyes still closed. “But Rafael is going to be handling it.”

“Okay,” says Jane. “But will you be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” says Petra. “It’s not exactly something we haven’t dealt with before.”

Jane chuckles. “Tell me about it. Gosh, if ghosts existed, this place would be crawling with them.”

 _Oh you have_ no _idea_ , thinks Petra, her mind flitting back to when Emilio had been murdered. That had been horrific. And frustrating. Petra had not enjoyed that exorcism at all.

Lucky for her, Emilio’s ghost had been the only one of the Marbella’s murder victims that had haunted her that year. The bellboy had clearly decided to move on (and Petra didn’t blame him). And Aaron Zazo hadn’t shown up once. Although, Petra has to admit that things would have been easier if he _had_ shown up. If he’d just been responsible and come back to avenge his own murder, Petra probably wouldn’t have been kidnapped and almost killed.

But then again, Aaron hadn’t exactly known her.

But then _again_ , none of the ghosts that come to her know her either. It’s always, oh, Hector Gonzalez told me you were the mediator. Can you help me track down my cousin who lives in Charlotte and has a golden chicken that you need him to stop selling this very minute because it was a family heirloom with my last will and testament on it, and if you don’t succeed, I will never move on and bother you forever?

That chicken had been so much more trouble than it was worth.

“Feeling better?”

Jane’s voice jolts her back to the present. Petra opens her eyes and smiles.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“That’s good.”

Jane sits up a little straighter and laces her fingers together. Petra is almost sad at the fact that their hands are no longer touching.

“I – I wanted to tell you something else,” she says. “I didn’t mention this earlier… but I’m thinking of running for Room Mom.”

Petra sits up straight too. 

“But I’m Room Mom,” she says. 

“I know! I know,” says Jane, sounding apprehensive. “It’s just that Mateo and I rarely get enough time to spend with each other, and I was hoping that I could change that. And you’ve been Room Mom for a while now…”

“Yes, because I need to spend as much quality time with Anna and Elsa as possible.”

Jane sighs. “You’re not the only mom in class, Petra. The rest of us get to want to spend time with our children too.”

Petra opens her mouth to argue, but something inside her stops her. Between the added workload of the rebranding, and having to mediate Scott while trying to make sure the Marbella doesn’t get too much bad publicity, she knows she’s going to have her hands full. And she doesn’t even like being Room Mom. She only does it so that people won’t have any reason to think she’s a bad mom because she’s a working mom. She gets enough flak for that already.

And she can’t find it in herself to deprive Jane of the opportunity to spend more time with Mateo. That’s just bordering on cruel. And Petra’s not cruel. She _can_ be very mean sometimes, yes, she will be the first to admit that now, but _only_ when provoked. To top it off, she’s exhausted. Working at the Marbella really takes it out of a girl. One day it’s your stocks falling, the next day it’s a dead body…

“You’re right, Jane,” she says. “You should run for Room Mom. It would be a good way for you to get to spend more time with Mateo.”

The first expression that crosses Jane’s face is confusion. Petra almost laughs, but she purses her lips and tries to keep a straight face. 

“That – that is…”

“What?” asks Petra.

Jane frowns at her.

“You don’t like being Room Mom, do you?”

“What?” splutters Petra. “No, that is – that is absolutely _not_ true!”

“No, you don’t!” exclaims Jane. “And now you want _me_ to do it!”

“Hey, I never wanted you to do it, you wanted to run yourself! You were all up for it until I said okay. Clearly you don’t trust me at all.”

Now it’s Jane’s turn to splutter.

“I – I – it’s not that I don’t _trust_ you – I just…”

“What is it, hmm?” Petra says with a smirk, sliding closer to Jane, putting her arm over the back of the couch. “Now that evil Petra’s said it, being Room Mom doesn’t sound like such a great idea?” 

“No, it’s just – hey! Are you trying to use reverse psychology on me?”

Petra slides closer to Jane until she is close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Of course I am Jane,” she says. “I’ve always been your worst nightmare, remember?” 

“Petra!” laughs Jane, shoving her gently. Petra smiles too – how can she not? Jane’s whole face always looks like it’s glowing when she smiles. The sides of her eyes crinkle up, and her pupils sparkle, and it’s like everything is so perfect, and so beautiful, and just…

Petra clears her throat and slides further back (but not so far).

“I am being serious though,” she says. “There’s no catch. You should run for Room Mom.”

“No, but you do hate it, right?” says Jane, still grinning. “That’s why you’re conceding so quickly.”

Petra grimaces. “What can I say? It’s a room full of under-fives. You’d have to have a never-ending well of patience to enjoy that.” 

Jane sighs, but Petra puts her hand over hers.

“You should try it though,” she says. “For a while at least. If you want to spend more time with Mateo, this would be wonderful.”

Jane bites her lip (and Petra can’t help but notice how cute she is when she does bite that lower lip of hers) and sighs.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Thanks though.” 

“No problem,” says Petra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some real Jetra to make up for the long update time. I've had a tough week settling into uni, unpacking, being jetlagged and exhausted, and having my wrist in a splint - but I've caught up on my sleep now, which is something! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. You guys are the best. <3 <3 <3


	7. Chapter 7

On Tuesday, Petra’s rushing. Two of her meetings have run overtime, and Rafael had needed to attend to an emergency at the last minute, so here she is, running late to go pick up Anna and Elsa.

She could just send the chauffeur to pick them up; Rafael’s told her to do it enough times, because watching her run around freaking out always freaks _him_ out. But Petra has always maintained that, unless she is dead on the floor, there is no way she will have a chauffeur pick up her babies. She hasn’t forgotten what Sin Rostro did to Mateo.

She dials the valet and holds her phone between her shoulder and her ear while grabbing her keys. She runs towards her apartment door when Scott materialises in front of it.

“Where’s Anezka?”

The valet chooses to answer at exactly this point.

“Mrs. Solano.”

“ _Miss_ Solano. Can you bring the car around? I’m going downstairs.”

“Right away, Miss Solano.” 

Hanging up, Petra tosses her phone in her handbag and rolls her eyes. “Little preoccupied right now, Scott.” She tries to reach for the door handle but Scott moves in front of it. Petra throws her hands up in frustration.

“Look, I’m telling you for the last time, I don’t know where she is! I told you yesterday.” 

Scott slams his fist against the door. Petra jumps and clutches her bag. There’s very little she can do if Scott does get violent – unless another ghost happens to be nearby, there’s really no one who can help her.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore Scott’s sad attempt at a dramatic monologue.

“You’re going to tell me where she is, or I’m going to raise hell. I can do that now you know. I’ve got some cool powers, now that I’m dead and all.”

“Yeah, like levitating wine glasses?” Petra opens her eyes. “Scary.” 

Scott glares at her. The end table next to the door begins to shake, and everything in the room begins to rattle. Petra takes another deep breath. If anything breaks, that’s another couple of zeros on a quotation for maintenance that she really does not want to write up.

“Really, Scott? That’s so professional of you.”

“I could raze this place to the ground,” growls Scott. The end table shakes even harder, and a magazine slides off the edge. To be fair, it had been lying in a precarious position in the first place, but this doesn’t help Petra’s nerves.

“I could take it all down you know? Everything you’ve ever worked for. All gone in an hour. And if you don’t tell me where Anezka is, I’ll make sure you lose everything you love too.”

“I could have you exorcised within the minute, Scott,” says Petra. 

“You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t even know the first thing to do.” 

“Then you clearly haven’t been dead for long enough.”

“Can we leave the threatening to ghosts that can actually carry them out?” says Michael, suddenly materialising behind Petra. The end table stops shaking. Petra sighs in relief. 

Scott rounds on Michael. 

“If I were you,” he hisses, “I wouldn’t be so confident.” 

He disappears. Michael picks up the magazine.

“So what’s new?” he asks. “Ooh. Best real estate of 2020. Riveting.” 

“Aside from the investigation that’s actually starting to affect our numbers and the fact that I am now very late to pick up my daughters?” asks Petra, opening the door. “Nothing. Nothing’s new.” 

“It can’t be _that_ bad.” Michael follows Petra out of the apartment. 

“We’ve had ten cancellations this week,” says Petra, lowering her voice and peeking around the corner to see if any of the maids are around. “All magically in line with the press catching wind of the fact that the Miami PD is starting a murder investigation at the Marbella. Again.”

“Fun.”

“Very.” 

The corridors are mercifully empty (or at least they appear to be). Petra jabs the _down_ button on the lift. Lucky for her, it comes up fast.

“So how Jane?” asks Michael. They step into the lift.

“She’s running for Room Mom,” says Petra as the doors close. “But you obviously know that already.”

“No I don’t.”

“What?” says Petra, frowning. “What do you do when you go see her?”

“I don’t see her as often as you think,” says Michael with a shrug. “It’s just sometimes, you know, I go when she’s asleep, or sometimes just drop by at work, just to see if she’s okay. I stop by at school —”

“You never say hi to _me_ at school!”

“You’re always surrounded by people,” says Michael, leaning against the wall. “Anyway, I don’t stalk her. That’s creepy. I just check in every now and again.”

“You’re a ghost that hasn’t moved on. Stalking is in your job description.”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah but – you know… it’s hard, seeing her alive.” He sighs. “I’m glad she’s okay. But I wish I was there.”

Petra looks at Michael, whose gaze is fixed on the floor. Before she can say anything, the doors open. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, as they both walk out into the crowded lobby. 

“It’s not your fault,” says Michael. Normally, Petra would’ve made a comment about how unfair it is that he gets to walk and talk normally whenever they’re around people, and she has to mumble and mutter and act generally shady until they can find some privacy. 

But she doesn’t have the heart to do that today. It isn’t the first time Michael has expressed something like this, but he does it rarely enough for Petra to forget that he _does_ feel this way. Guilt creeps up her throat. She doesn’t say anything else until they both get into her car. Michael straps the seatbelt around himself out of sheer habit. 

Petra’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as she pulls away. “So uh… if you don’t actually go near her, what do you do?”

“I just watch her,” says Michael. The sun streams through the windshield and right into Petra’s eyes. She slams down the shade. “I know that sounds creepy.”

“Creepy can be contextual.”

“Eh,” says Michael, and Petra purses her lips when she hears the note of discontent in his voice. “I like seeing her work. I like seeing her smile. And I love seeing her with Mateo. She’s always happiest around him.”

Petra slows down at a red light. Michael’s brows are knitted and he’s staring straight ahead.

“When she first told me she was pregnant,” he says, “I didn’t know what the fuck to think. The idea of raising someone else’s kid – I dunno. I completely freaked out, and I – I hate that I did. That was a jerk move.”

“It wasn’t a jerk move Michael,” says Petra, glancing at him once before the light turns green again. She presses her foot on the accelerator. “It wasn’t. It was a very human reaction to have.”

“I hate that I couldn’t be perfect for her,” says Michael. He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his hands through his hair. “Now that I’m d – that I’m here… I regret it. I didn’t after we got married, I always thought, hey, that was part of the journey, shit happens. Now? Journey’s over. All I have are my mistakes.”

“You didn’t make as many as you think,” says Petra. “Michael, Jane thinks the world of you. She doesn’t remember the bad times nearly as much. You know that counts for a lot, right? It means you did well.”

She turns her head to look at him, taking her eyes off the road for a second. There aren’t any cars ahead of her. The whole street is actually pretty empty.

She feels the crash before she hears it. Her vision goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's commented on the story from the start, especially to those of you telling me how much you liked it and that you'd love to see more. 
> 
> Extra special thanks to orangefish19 who left the most recent comment - I literally read it right after I woke up and I was like yes, I'm gonna get on with this and not leave all these nice people hanging, and I pulled up my half written chapter and finished it and published it.
> 
> I hit pause on the project mostly because I grew kinda disillusioned with JTV at some point (I still keep up though), and I also needed to work through my own grief about Michael's death (it hit way too close to home), but hopefully I can pick this back up again.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read it, and I'm so glad you've enjoyed it so far. <3 I appreciate all of you more than you know.


	8. Chapter 8

Petra can’t make out anything when she first opens her eyes so she just closes them again.

Barely two minutes later she scowls, because some idiot _won’t stop saying her name_.

“Shh!” she says. “I’m trying to sleep!”

The voice stops for a moment and Petra thinks it chuckles.

“Well. At least you’re back to normal.”

This sounds suspicious, so Petra opens her eyes again. Jane comes into focus in front of her, brow knitted in concern. She glances around the rest of her room – it is very clearly _not_ her bedroom. There’s a beeping monitor next to her, the bed is atrociously hard, and there’s a needle sticking out of her arm.

“Jane, what —”

She tries to sit up, but the room spins around her again and she lays back with a groan.

“Don’t over exert yourself,” says Jane, patting her hand.

“I wouldn’t if you’d just tell me what’s happening,” Petra mutters, her eyelids fluttering. The light makes her eyes sting, She’s just _so_ tired, and everything hurts.

“Do – do you not remember what happened?” asks Jane. She takes Petra’s fingertips and strokes them softly. Petra can tell she’s trying to stay calm, but even in the state she’s in, she doesn’t miss the tremble.

She closes her eyes again and thinks back to the events of the day. The Miami PD had reopened the investigation, Petra had been telling Michael about that, and they’d got into the car to go get Anna and Elsa from school —

Oh.

Petra growls. “The street was empty!” she says.

“Maybe you didn’t see what you hit,” says Jane in the same voice, and Petra’s eyes snap open.

“I don’t have amnesia, in case you’re wondering,” she says. “And stop worrying. You’re stressing me out.”

“Right.” Jane withdraws her hand and clasps them in her lap. Petra immediately regrets lashing out, least of all because she hadn’t realised that Jane’s hand on hers had been comforting.

“Wait,” she says, frowning a little. “Why’re you here?”

Jane shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I – honestly? I really don’t.” Petra frowns and Jane grimaces. “This is gonna sound really weird,” she says. “But I was at school, I was picking up Mateo, and all of a sudden I felt this kind of… this… I don’t even know how to explain it. Like I felt like I _had_ to call you. And I tried to ignore the feeling because I mean, it’s super weird, it’s not like we really have stuff to talk about anyway —”

Petra won’t lie. _That_ hurts more than the crash did.

“I got Mateo and I looked around to see if I could find you but you weren’t there, and then I waited a while to see if you’d show up but you didn’t.” Jane takes a deep breath. Her brow furrows again in the way it does when she’s upset. “So I called you. And a paramedic picked up and they said you were in a crash and you were unconscious.”

Petra grits her teeth. “How long was I unconscious for?”

“It’s been a few hours,” says Jane. “We were all starting to get worried.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me. Raf. The Marbella staff.” Jane unclasps her hands as if to reach out to Petra, but then thinks better of it and withdraws again. It hits Petra like a stack of bricks on an already sore heart.

“Well thank you for calling me,” she mutters. “And thanks for sitting here with me.”

“Raf’s with the kids now,” says Jane. “I dropped Anna and Elsa off with their nannies before coming here, but he’s with them now so you don’t have to worry about that. Okay?”

“Thank you, Jane,” says Petra again. “I appreciate it.”

Jane smiles, her eyes brightening immediately. Petra’s heart glows.

“You’re welcome Petra,” she says, her voice warm and soft.

There’s a knock on the door and Rafael sticks his head through the door. His face is lined with worry, but he relaxes when he sees Petra conscious.

“Oh thank god,” he sighs, stepping inside and shutting the door gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Achy,” says Petra. “Annoyed. I want to go home.”

Jane bites her lip and her eyes flick over in Rafael’s direction for a millisecond, but as groggy as she is, Petra notices this (because how can she not notice anything about Jane?).

“What?” she snaps. Jane flinches a little. Guilt crosses her face.

“They uh… they want to keep you overnight, Petra,” she says, eyes darting from Petra’s to Rafael’s as though looking for an out. The only thing that keeps Petra from leaping out of bed in rage (aside from the fact that her body is in pain) is the fact that Jane’s hand, warm and comfortingly rough, is still on hers.

Even so, her exclamation comes out shrill.

“Overnight?”

“Just to be on the safe side,” says Rafael, hurrying towards her and trying to speak in his soothing voice (which is the last thing that’s soothing to Petra’s mind).

“I’m perfectly fine!” Petra scoffs and moves up, trying to fling herself out of bed to show them, but the whole room spins and a wave of nausea rushes over her. She retches. Jane whips her hand away and scrambles for the basin that’s been very conveniently left on the table next to them, as though the staff knew she was going to puke.

She does. It’s irritating.

Jane holds her hair back for her, rubbing gentle circles on her back, and she helps her clean up after she’s done.

Even though her stomach burns like it’s being wrung out, and she’s cold and clammy all over, Petra still manages to feel an undercurrent of embarrassment when Jane dabs at her mouth with a cloth.

“You’ll be fine,” she murmurs. “You’ll be just fine.”

Petra’s eyes sting and she sniffs. A tear leaks out of the corner of one eye, but before she can wipe it away, Jane does.

“I know you must be really scared right now,” she says. “But the doctors aren’t too worried about you, and you’ve got plenty of people who’re ready to take care of you.”

Petra hates how she feels the little cloud of discomfort grow in her chest at Jane’s words. She tries to squash it and remind herself that people are allowed to be nice without needing Petra to pay them back for their kindness, but the cloud just grows and seeps through her skin like a poisonous numbness.

“I don’t —” she starts, but then stops herself. For Jane’s sake. She doesn’t want to accidentally hurt her feelings again.

“I have to go home now,” says Jane, a hint of regret in her voice. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” says Petra. “I know you’ve got a lot to do, and Mateo…”

“Petra,” says Jane, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll come back in the morning. You’ll be out of here in no time.” She leans over and brushes Petra’s hair out of her face. A tingle runs down Petra’s side. “Rest up,” says Jane. “Raf, can I see you outside for a bit?”

She gathers her things and leaves the room, and Rafael follows. The moment the door closes, Michael materialises next to her. Petra yelps.

“Gah – god!”

“Sorry,” he says, grimacing and sitting on Jane’s recently vacated chair. “I’ve been waiting a while.”

He glances at the door, a deep sadness crossing his face. Clasping his hands together, he bounces his left leg.

“What happened?” asks Petra.

“If I had to put my detective skills into use for once,” says Michael, still looking at the door. “I’d say it was Scott.”

Petra scoffs. “No shit. How the car?”

“Banged up,” says Michael. “Thankfully someone saw it happen and called the paramedics.”

“Did you see him?”

“Nope,” says Michael, finally dragging his eyes from the door to look at Petra again. His bouncing leg makes her jittery.

“Stop that,” she snaps. Michael stops. An uncomfortable silence falls between them. Petra stares out of the window. Not that there’s anything to stare at since the blinds are drawn.

“He’s a tad stronger than we might’ve expected,” says Michael, his voice cracking towards the end of the sentence.

“Yeah,” says Petra with a sarcastic smile. “Just a tad.”

Michael frowns and stares at the floor and Petra wishes she could read minds. She’s worried, of course, even though she’s trying not to be. Her nails dig into the flesh of her palms.

She decides to think about something less stressful. Specifically, Jane, and how nice her hand felt on hers.

“How’d she know to come?” she murmurs.

“I told her to come,” says Michael. Both of them look up at each other. Petra raises an eyebrow.

“You _told —_ ”

“After someone called the paramedics, I went to find her at school,” says Michael. “And I managed to get her attention by screaming loud enough into her ear for a while. Had to stand pretty close.” A crease forms on his brow and he glances down again.

A little sting of pain blooms through Petra’s chest. It has nothing to do with the accident, and everything to do with the fact that she hasn’t seen Michael look this upset in years.

She doesn’t usually get attached to the ghosts she mediates, but Michael’s been around for three years now. She’s used to him. And apparently, she cares.

She knows how hard it must’ve been for him to do that. He never goes close to Jane if he can help it, always watching from the distance.

“Michael,” she says, but he doesn’t look up. “Thank you.”

“Did you know she smells the same still?” he asks, his voice choked in his throat. “She still…”

Petra’s eyes sting again. Michael shudders and he clears his throat.

The door opens, and Petra’s head snaps up. Rafael walks back inside.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door softly behind him. “How’re you feeling?”

“You’ve already asked me this,” says Petra, looking over to the chair again, but Michael’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Petra's all good, but ohh yike Scott is scarier than we all thought. HOW NOW BROWN COW? 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments you've all left on the previous chapter! I love you all, and thank you so much for reading <3 you guys are the absolute best!


	9. Chapter 9

Petra’s cleared to leave two days later, but her refusal to file a police report worries everyone. She only realises the extent of it when she receives a phone call from Jane one afternoon while she’s in the middle of a meeting.

“Excuse me,” she smiles, motioning for the head of marketing to take over the presentation. Normally she wouldn’t pick up calls during a meeting with investors but Jane’s an exception.

“Hey Petra.”

Petra shuts the door. “What is it Jane?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I interrupt you?”

“No, but your concern is poorly disguised and I’d rather you spat it out than tiptoed around it.”

She can picture Jane’s grimace in the moment of silence and sighs. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to lash out.”

“It’s fine,” Jane says. “I wanted to call because Raf told me you weren’t filing a police report.”

“There’s nothing to file a report on,” Petra says, trying to keep her tone steady. “I don’t know what I hit.”

“But there were witnesses, certainly,” Jane says. “People who might’ve seen something – because it doesn’t seem like you hit an _object_ so it must’ve been another driver who sped off or something.”

“Jane. It’s fine. I’m alive, and that’s all that matters.”

“You totaled your car, Petra! I think it’s worth looking into!”

“Jane!” Petra exclaims, making a nearby assistant yelp and scurry away. “I have a lot on my plate at work right now and I don’t think I want to be filing a police report. The less people know of my accident the better. The Marbella’s already under investigation, I don’t need another complication.”

“Fine,” Jane huffs.

“Fine,” Petra snaps, and hangs up. She regrets it as soon as she does, but calling Jane back is not an option. She has a little more pride than that.

Taking a long slow breath, she closes her eyes and exhales through her mouth, putting a hand on the cold doorknob to ground herself. Then, she steps back into the meeting with a smile on her face like nothing happened.

She spends the rest of the day subdued, trying not to snap at people because everything is irritating and nothing is going right. To top it off, when the time comes to pick up Anna and Ellie from school, Petra finds herself walking to her other car, getting in the driver’s seat, and having a panic attack the moment she starts the engine.

It had crept up on her so insidiously that she hadn’t noticed till she was clutching the steering wheel, gasping for breath and hoping to god or whatever deity out there that no one could see this. Her breaths grow sharp and shallow and painfully constricted, and her vision begins to swim with tears.

She bangs her head against the steering wheel and gasps when the horn honks. The little shock makes her cry harder, her hands growing number and colder.

Trembling, she reaches for her phone, not knowing who to call. Who _can_ she call? Rafael’s probably busy, that’s the reason why she’s picking up the kids today. She can’t call Krishna or any of her other assistants because that would mean they’d see her crying. That’s unacceptable.

 _Jane_ , she thinks, but she can’t. She can’t call Jane. Although that would be the most logical because it’s very likely that Jane is on her way to pick up Mateo right now, and it would be an inconvenience for her to go out of her way to bring the girls back but it would also be the best option at the moment…

Her fingers find the number and dial it before she can make a decision. She sees the seconds start to tick up on the call and raises it up to her ear with shaking hands.

“Petra?”

“J – Jane – oh god…”

“Petra, oh my god, are you okay? Where are you, what’s happening?”

“I – I need you to p-pick up the girls…” Petra sniffs and wipes her nose with her hand, not caring if this takes off her makeup. Her face is ruined anyway. “Can you – p-please...”

“I’ll get them back, don’t worry. Where are you?”

“Th – the Marbella…”

“I’ll be there okay? Stay put. I’ve got them.”

The call cuts. Petra collapses against the steering wheel again, and it honks loudly. “Oh shut up!” she screams, slamming her fist onto it. Counterproductive. The horn blares through the empty lot and she covers her face with her hands.

Eventually, her sobs recede. Feeling like she’s been scraped raw inside, Petra grabs some tissues from the back and blows her nose and wipes her face. She catches sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror and gasps. Her undereye area is grey from streaked mascara, and her lipstick is patchy. She’s rubbed off so much foundation that her pallid skin shows through. Great. Now everyone will know that she actually looks like a zombie.

She steps out of her car, wobbling a little bit on her heels when she stands. Taking a deep breath to reorient herself, she holds her phone tight and walks back to the hotel. She takes the back entrance and uses the service elevator to go to her suite.

Petra walks into the bathroom to wash her face, but changes her mind the moment she steps inside and decides to take a shower instead. Standing under a cold stream of water for two minutes shocks her back to stability, but she emerges feeling small and raw and very alone.

Jane gets to the suite after she finishes dressing and reapplying her makeup, and Petra’s ready with a smile that stays fixed around the mouth area. “Thank you so much for this,” she says. “I owe you one after school pick up for Mateo.”

“Oh no, Petra, it’s fine, really.” Jane waves it away, her brown eyes filled with concern. She waits till the girls have run into their room to speak again, lowering her voice. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“It’s just stress, you know how it is,” Petra says, waving it away like Jane waved away her concerns. “I’m alright now.”

“Are you sure?” Jane asks. “Where were you when it happened?”

“In my car. It’s nothing.”

Jane frowns, eyes searching Petra for answers that the both of them know Petra won’t give up willingly. She bites her lip. Petra stands up a little straighter, trying to project strength.

“If you want,” Jane says, “I can take over pick up duties for a little while.”

“Oh Jane, you really don’t have to —”

“Petra,” Jane murmurs, stepping a little closer and catching Petra’s sentence midway. Her fingers brush against hers, and Petra trembles. Her legs threaten to give way, to fall into Jane and let her catch her, to have someone hold her up for once in her life.

“Please let me do this for you,” Jane says. “I’ll do your days for you for now, and I’ll get Rafael to do a couple more days himself. You can pay me back by picking Mateo up as many times as I pick the girls up. But only when you’re comfortable getting behind the wheel again.”

“Jane I’m quite alright behind a wheel.”

“You just had a horrifying accident,” Jane says, her eyes too understanding, her voice too kind. “It’s okay not to be okay for a while. It’s okay.”

Petra grips the door as she’s suddenly transported back to their Sunday lunches in the early days. Back when Michael had just died, and Petra had been struggling without Rafael around. Jane, with no happiness in her eyes whatsoever, had leaned close and taken her hand and told her it was okay not to be okay for a while.

Now there’s emotion in her face besides grief, but Petra can’t stand that the sympathy’s being directed at her. She doesn’t want half of Jane’s friendly sympathy, she wants her whole heart. She knows its selfish but she wants it, and it hurts her to not have it when she knows that Jane has hers. No matter what Petra might’ve wanted, no matter what she might feel, no matter how annoying Jane can be, she has Petra’s whole heart.

“Thank you Jane,” she says finally. “I appreciate that.”

Jane gives her a small smile and takes her hand and squeezes it. Petra squeezes back.

“I am very sorry for snapping at you earlier today,” she mutters. “I was under a lot of pressure. But I am sticking by my decision. Filing a police report is not a priority.”

“Okay,” Jane says, and Petra sighs in relief. She knows how much it takes for Jane to give in. She’s glad that she has.

Jane strokes the back of Petra’s hand with her thumb, and they stay like that for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! The semester got in the way, but I'm on holiday now! Thanks to everyone who's been reading, and to everyone that's stuck around since the beginning <3 you guys are the best.


	10. Chapter 10

Petra remains extremely embarrassed about her breakdown a week later, to the point where she decides to do something about it.

“I’ve been mediating for years now,” she snaps to Michael, pacing up and down her office while he watches her from the sofa. “This is unacceptable. It’s ridiculous and embarrassing, and worst of all, _Jane saw_!”

“Well you _did_ call her,” Michael starts, but Petra stops in her tracks and shoots him a glare so vicious that he purses his lips and nods. “Got it.”

“We have to find out how he died,” Petra says, resuming her pacing, wringing her hands as she does. “We have to find out how he died, and he’s not going to be of any help, but we can’t bring the police in because they’re already investigating anyway and it’s not like I can just tell people I know Scott was probably murdered because I saw his ghost the other day --”

“Okay, how about we go down to the beach now and try to find a couple of people who may have been around when it happened,” Michael says. Petra stops again and frowns at him.

“I highly doubt there _were_ people around when it happened, Michael,” she starts, but Michael shakes his head.

“Ghosts I mean,” he says. “Someone might’ve seen something. Or heard something.”

“Do ghosts gossip now?” Petra mutters.

“You’d be surprised,” Michael says, standing up and dusting his hands off on his trousers. “Come on. Let’s do some sleuthing.”

With a grin on his face, he opens the door and walks straight out of the room. Petra huffs. “Don’t _do_ that!” she hisses, hurrying out and shutting the door. Krishna looks up, her eyes wide and terrified behind her glasses, but she always looks like that so Petra can’t be certain it was Michael’s doing.

He presses the button for the lift just as she catches up with him, almost tripping on her heels. “Don’t do that without me!” she hisses, smiling at a guest who walks past her looking like she has poop on her face. “Hello, have a nice day.”

Michael grimaces. “Oh no, sorry!” he says. “I got a bit over-excited.”

“I can see that,” Petra mutters, but leaves it at that, not just because she doesn’t want people to think she’s talking to herself, but also because she knows that being a ghost is probably one of the worst things possible for someone like Michael. For people like Scott who want revenge, there’s the sense of purpose that fuels them and gives them something to do. For people like Michael who aren’t really sure why they’re still around, well… all Petra can really do is entertain them and try to keep them out of trouble.

They step into the lift together and Petra presses the button for the ground floor. They don’t say anything the entire time, and when the doors open again, Petra steps out first, only to be accosted by a police officer.

Well, not accosted per se. But having a police officer in her way is inconvenient in any scenario.

“Oh hey it’s Pete,” Michael says with a smile, and then his expression turns forlorn. Petra sighs.

“May I help you?” she asks the officer.

“We just wanted to let you know that we’ve re-examined the location of the body and we’ve realized it’s on the Fairwick’s territory,” Pete says, looking a little apologetic. Petra frowns, but then rearranges her features into something less suspicious. “We’re moving the investigation off the Marbella. So sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Petra says. Pete nods and turns away, crossing the lobby, and Petra watches him go with no small amount of confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly. “Scott’s body was very clearly within our boundaries.”

“Yeah…” Michael says from behind her. “About that…”

Petra’s eyes widen and Michael motions for her to step away from the lift lobby. She follows him through one of the service exits and walks through the corridors till they find a niche that’s secluded enough.

“What did you do?” Petra whispers.

“I moved him,” Michael says. Petra balks but Michael raises his hands to stop her from shouting. “Not so much! Just about an inch to the right so he’d be off the Marbella property line. I measured it before I did it. No one’s going to suspect anything. People make mistakes all the time.”

Petra’s heart begins to race as she thinks about all the implications of this. On one hand, no police investigations means she now has a leg up on the re-rebranding strategies she’s been struggling over. On the other hand, if she gets found out, it’ll be double the cost.

“There’s no way anyone but a ghost could’ve seen me do it,” Michael says, making Petra doubt for the thousandth time that he isn’t telepathic. “So you’ll be good.”

“I – thank you, Michael,” she manages to say finally. “That was – that was very kind of you.”

Michael nods through pursed lips. “Let’s go ask some questions,” he says. “I’m sure there are more than a few people who’ll be happy to help. There’s a lady I met at the Fairwick, Frederica, she talks _a lot_.”

“I doubt we should be headed to the Fairwick at all,” Petra says. Michael chuckles.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll bring her to you. But come. She doesn’t like heading too far from her burial spot.”

Petra raises an eyebrow. “Where’s she buried?”

“Under the lobby.” Petra’s eyes widen and Michael shrugs. “Yeah. You might need to deal with her later.”

“Great,” Petra mutters as they start to walk again. “More work.”

Michael’s footsteps are noiseless, and it’s only Petra’s heels that echo in the quiet corridor. Then, her phone begins to buzz in her hand and she picks it up without glancing at the caller ID.

“Petra Solano, how may I help you?”

“Oh – oh beautiful sister, I am so glad you are picking up the phone! I am calling your office so many times but Krishna is saying you are not there so I found your mobile number and am calling you --”

“Anezka?” Petra asks. Michael turns to look and Petra just shrugs at him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Oh beautiful sister…” Anezka sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, which isn’t too far from what she usually sounds like on a good day. “I am feeling very afraid. Things are moving in the apartment when I am not moving them, and they are making strange noises at night and I cannot sleep.”

“I’m sure it’s just a figment of your imagination Anezka,” Petra says dismissively as they reach the end of the corridor and she puts a hand on the doorknob. “Have you been sleeping well? Eating?”

“Today I am finding a piece of paper with my name written on it,” Anezka says. “A – and on the bottom, it is saying, _Scott_ …”

Petra’s entire body freezes in fear. “I’m coming over,” she says. “Stay put.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am after 29839182 years LOL I am so sorry. Life has been a little asshole, hence the long break, but thank you all so much for sticking around and enjoying this! Know that I appreciate every single one of you, and every new comment and kudos gives me the strength to keep writing. You guys are the absolute best!
> 
> <3


	11. Chapter 11

When Petra reaches, she finds Anezka in an advanced state of panic.

“Beautiful sister!” she shrieks, leaping onto Petra and wrapping almost all four limbs around her. Petra stumbles with the added weight and barely manages to reroute herself to the couch before they both fall.

“Anezka, please, control yourself!” she splutters, getting a mouthful of her sister’s hair. “Come on, sit up, _sit_. There are no ghosts in this room.”

She ignores Michael, who has made himself comfortable on a stool in front of them.

Anezka starts to sob, sounding pitifully like a mix between a puppy and a child with a congested nose, so Petra goes to get her a glass of water. She rubs her back slowly while helping her drink it, sighing and thinking of ways to exorcise Scott as quickly as possible so they can wrap this up and go back to normal.

The ‘Not Petra’ tattoo on her forehead remains painfully visible. Petra winces when she sees it but she keeps reminding herself that Anezka and Magda pushed her to that point. You don’t keep someone paralysed for that long without suffering some consequences.

Ten minutes later, Anezka’s sobs have mostly subsided, and the glass of water is empty. Petra puts it down on the coffee table and clasps her hands together.

“Can you show me the note please?” she asks. She expects Anezka to get up and fetch it, but her sister’s quivering hands drop to the pocket of her dress and she takes out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Petra warily.

“Can I have it back?” she asks. Petra nods before taking it from her.

The writing on it is extremely shaky; it looks like it was written by a toddler, or someone using their non-dominant hand. Petra smooths the paper out over the coffee table and Michael comes over to have a look too. It’s letter sized paper, with a large blue and gold monogramme on top, and the writing on it spells out, clear as day:

 

A N E Z K A

 

And then, in similarly badly formed letters at the bottom, with an attempt made to keep the word constrained to the corner:

 

S C O T T

 

“Shit,” Michael says, putting a hand over his mouth. “Is that Marbella stationary?”

Petra nods, dread filling her stomach. It’s bad enough that Scott can carry things around so far, that’s powerful enough as it is, but the fact that the writing, shaky as it is, is actually _legible_ , does not bode well at all. Ghosts usually can’t retain the level of control required to sustain a task like holding a pen and writing something out for a living person to see, but if they’ve been around long enough, say about fifty to a hundred years, they usually gather enough power and control to do that sort of stuff without any trouble.

Scott’s only been a ghost for three years. The fact that he can write something at all means he’s much more powerful than any of them thought. Any malevolent spirit can total a car. This sort of thing requires finesse. Finesse that can only come from stone cold determination.

Petra’s insides slowly turn to ice. Her hands tremble as she gives the note back to Anezka. “Whe – where did you find this?” she rasps, clearing her throat. “Where was this, Anezka?”

“I find it in front of my door,” Anezka says, folding the paper and putting it back in her pocket. “I was going to buy the groceries and when I am coming back I am finding this.”

Petra looks around the apartment. There’s no sign or sense of Scott, and Michael hasn’t said anything either, which means he can’t sense a presence. That doesn’t rule out the possibility of Scott returning however, and Petra has no real way of protecting Anezka from that, aside from standing guard inside the house herself.

She figures Scott is unlikely to harm Anezka, given that he’d loved her very much during life, but there’s never any telling with malevolent spirits. Sometimes, their rage overcomes the last of their human nature, and their actions become unpredictable. Petra knows her life would be easier without Anezka in it, but she doesn’t think she can handle another death on her conscience.

“We’ll have someone check for rats or other pests,” Petra says finally, patting Anezka’s thigh gingerly. The hug has emotionally exhausted her. “I don’t think you’re being haunted, but I do think someone is trying to play a cruel prank. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

Anezka’s bottom lip trembles. “Do I have to give up the note?”

“You can keep it if it makes you feel better,” Petra says, and stands up, brushing her hands off on her shorts. “And let me know if you hear anything strange again.”

Anezka nods. “Thank you,” she mumbles. Petra’s heart clenches at the sight of her, forlorn and small. It’s so complicated with her. It could have been so simple, but every good thing Petra wants to feel for Anezka, every good thing that comes up because she has a human heart, is twisted and tangled in her rage and her fear and her drive for self-protection.

She clears her throat. “Have a good day Anezka,” she says, before sweeping out of the apartment and slamming the door shut.

Being outside makes her feel like she can breathe again. She hadn’t realised how tightly she’d been holding herself together, how hard she’d been digging her nails into her own palms, how she’d been clenching her jaw. The ache of release makes her realise, and she sighs.

Michael materialises next to her. “What’ll you do?” he asks quietly, leaning against the wall.

“I don’t know,” Petra says, newfound guilt clogging up her throat. “I – I don’t know what I _can_ do, Michael. If I’d never – if I’d never broken them up, Scott might still be alive perhaps, I don’t know, I don’t…”

“Let’s backtrack,” Michael says. “She almost killed you, kept you paralysed and imprisoned, tried to sell your part of the Marbella. Now you’ve gotten her out of prison. She’s compensated financially every month, and she has a nice apartment to live in with only a forehead tattoo to show for it.”

“Still,” Petra whispers, fists clenching involuntarily again. “She’s my sister… I – she grew up abandoned… so unwanted… and I took away the one person that might’ve actually, genuinely wanted her for herself…”

“Petra,” Michael says, putting his hands on his hips and looking remarkably like a stern grandmother. “Did _you_ kill Scott?”

“No, but…”

“Then no buts. You don’t know that Scott wouldn’t have died anyway. He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. This wasn’t your fault.”

He puts a consoling hand on her shoulder and squeezes it. “Let’s get back to the hotel,” he says. “I’m dying for some new gossip from Frederica, and not just about what she might know about Scott.”

A soft laugh threads its way out of Petra’s clogged throat. “Does she have good stories to tell?” she asks.

“Oh she has _so_ many,” Michael says with a grin, and Petra lets herself smile a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang two chapter update in a row? Strange day I'm having.  
> Sorry for the lack of Jetra in the new updates but the next chapter will get back to the slow romance, I promise  
> Thanks so much for reading <3


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